


i fear the fall and where we'd land

by blurryfaced



Series: nameless, faceless [6]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Cussing, Unhealthy Friendship, Verbal Fight, ace yugyeom, aro bambam, if that makes sense, kind of nervous about those tags because of the au they're in but, like only right at the beginning and it's not that much, mentioned jungkook and hoseok, unhealthy relationship, vague sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 04:13:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10689534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurryfaced/pseuds/blurryfaced
Summary: “because I know you, and you miss him,” kunpimook says, digging his fingers gently under yugyeom’s jaw, close to his throat, and the younger of the two gives a little grunt and tilts his head back. “you act like whenever he reaches out to you it’s such a big deal, but he’s your favourite, isn’t he?”





	i fear the fall and where we'd land

**Author's Note:**

> okay so
> 
> i decided to listen to _the neighbourhood_ on spotify on shuffle bc I've listened to a handful of songs that i really like and wow it put me in the mood for this. I've been sitting on this for a while and i'm a lil nervous to post it because of some of the things implied in it/my own headcanons. but if anyone wants clarification, please comment and i will answer, and if i did something insensitive, i'll change it to my abilities but remember this whole au is unhealthy so the way the characters think, feel or act will probably not be reflecting my own opinions or morals.
> 
> also, bambam has yugyeom's consent. and he knows better than to ask for favours from yugyeom when yugyeom really doesn't want to. just want to put that out there.
> 
> —mack

kunpimook’s fingers run through yugyeom’s hair, pushing strands out of his eyes and moving instead to gently cup the side of his face, running the pad of his thumb over the apple of the man’s cheek. he doesn’t back down when yugyeom’s eyes flicker up to lock gazes with him, instead chooses to let his lips part and a shaky breath leave them instead. yugyeom thinks it would probably be considered obscene, but he chooses not to think too much about it.

“so,” kunpimook says, tilting his head ever so slightly. the hand on yugyeom’s cheek doesn’t move, instead rests against it and his thigh comfortably. “what are you going to do?”

yugyeom chooses the moment to merely blink up at his childhood friend, curling his fingers around the back of kunpimook’s calf and moving the man’s leg to give his shoulders more room. he doesn’t remove his hand once he’s done, instead keeps it there, squeezing and releasing at a broken and uneven rhythm. he can feel the twitch of muscle under his touch and runs this thumb up and down, once, twice, three times as a reply.

the two of them are in kunpimook’s bedroom, the window wide open and blinds up, curtains pulled back. it doesn’t really matter that it’s the perfect opportunity for someone to look in and witness — first of all — the apocalyptic mess that is the thai man’s room and second of all the two figures crowded together by the narrow bed. it really doesn’t matter, because the flat’s three stories up and facing nothing but the corner of an abandoned building that had been built a decade ago yet never had more than one or two families in it at any given time. the only thing that peeks in at them, that spies on their bonding moment, is the perverted setting sun and its golden rays that slowly warm into a burnt orange.

this isn’t the first evening the two of them have holed themselves up in kunpimook’s — or, sometimes, yugyeom’s — bedroom, with kunpimook slouched on the bed, legs hanging over the edge, toes only just brushes against the floor, and yugyeom on his knees between them. and it’s nothing more than doing a friend a favour, because kunpimook cares about this kind of stuff and yugyeom feels completely indifferent to it.

“come on, off,” kunpimook grumbles, tapping yugyeom’s jaw and making to move.

yugyeom pulls back, feeling the familiar ache in his jaw, and sits on his heels. he takes the bottle of water he’s offered and drinks from it without rushing, letting his eyes roam over kunpimook’s form. he raises his eyebrows when his best friend tucks himself away and moves to sit against the wall properly, patting the spot on the bed next to him.

once he’s settled next to him, he feels familiar fingers beginning their massage around his jaw, gently pressing into the aches and making him melt against the wall like usual, eyes fluttering closed. if he were to admit it aloudd, this is his favourite part of their bonding moments. except when it’s broken by kunpimook being persistent.

“you know, you’re gonna have to call him back.”

yugyeom cracks an eye open and looks at his friend without bothering to hide how much he doesn’t want to have this conversation right now. “why do you say it like that?” he mumbles.

“because I know you, and you miss him,” kunpimook says, digging his fingers gently under yugyeom’s jaw, close to his throat, and the younger of the two gives a little grunt and tilts his head back. “you act like whenever he reaches out to you it’s such a big deal, but he’s your favourite, isn’t he?”

the fingers stop rubbing gently over his skin and cup his cheeks instead, tilting his head. he doesn’t jump any more when kunpimook presses kisses of varying lengths against his lips, not like he used to, just sighs before the last one and happily parts his lips to let his best friend rub lip balm onto them with his middle finger.

“if I go visit him, I’m going to be gone for at least a week,” yugyeom murmurs, opening his eyes a crack.

kunpimook coos at him immediately, closing the lip balm and putting it on his bedside table. “aw, are you worrying about little old me?” he returns to where he was sat before, batting his lashes at his best friend.

he snorts and closes his eyes once more. “you know what I mean.”

“and you know what I mean.”

yugyeom rubs at his face and sends kunpimook a look, refusing to blink until kunpimook looks away. “look, bambam-ah, I—”

“I have kookie,” kunpimook cuts in. and yugyeom sets his jaw, because this is just like his best friend, just like the man to ignore everything that encompasses subtlety and takes part in its definition. “I have a whole handful of friends outside of you. what, did you think I’d fall apart just because you’d leave for a bit?”

it’s childish, he knows, but it doesn’t stop him from jerking his head away and staring at the crack in the paint on the opposite wall. it crawls under his skin whenever kunpimook says something like this, whenever he touches the subject that the two of them know is always shared as a joke. because the truth is, yes, kunpimook would fall apart if yugyeom wasn’t there for a while. and so would yugyeom, really. with the way their lives are, and the lack of indication that they’re going to change any time soon, the two rely possibly just a little too much on each other.

“I’m not going to see him,” yugyeom grits out, crossing his arms over his chest.

kunpimook stares at the side of his face, traces his profile, takes in the unfocused gaze and pursed lips that give away his best friend’s irritation. he sighs and slumps down the wall just a little bit, turning his attention to the setting sun outside the window. he follows the sharp line of the edge of the building and squints when the sun shines directly onto his face. “kookie got a job, you know. would have thought you’d tell me to hang out with him and maybe have his influence rub off on me, or something.”

yugyeom grunts and kunpimook knows he’s shaking his head without turning to look at him. “don’t start with that.”

jungkook is a fifteen-year-old boy that managed to convince a small supermarket to hire him as a cashier because he washes regularly and doesn’t steal from them. they both know it won’t last long, the job, that someone will come in and point something out about jungkook that he won’t be able to change and suddenly he’ll be back looking for jobs, either more determined or with his soul even further down in his boots than usual. it’s always hard to tell with that kid.

“start with what?” the thai man says, and his voice is all sweet, sugar and innocence; things yugyeom knows he’s far from, things yugyeom wonders if he ever was at some point in his life.

“you and I both know the only job he’s ever going to have is one hoseok-hyung allows him, and that’s almost _never_ going to happen,” yugyeom stresses, sending a look that kunpimook catches and makes him frown.

he watches the way the dying light plays on the skin of his hand. “I still don’t see what you’ve got against hoseok-hyungie. he got kookie off the streets, under a roof, clean and fed. you should try and _actually_ be happy for once, instead of pretending every time we’re so much as thirty feet away from them.”

it’s the same conversation from the last few months over and over again. and it never changes. just like them.

kunpimook shuffles off his bed and moves to his bedside table. the drawer doesn’t shut all the way, the two of them having put it together when they found the pieces in a dumpster but it had been broken before it’d even been put there. it sits at an angle, an inch of free space on one side that allows them to drop small things in if they’re in a hurry. the thai man drags it open and picks out a cigarette and a lighter, placing the cig between his lips and lighting it without a second thought.

“this changes nothing, you know,” he continues, dropping the lighter in the drawer and pushing it closed with his hip. he leans against the creaking wood, paint chipped, one arm winding loosely around his waist, cigarette hanging daintily from the fingers of his other hand. “hoseok-hyung is the reason kookie’s making something of himself. he’s lucky that hyung found him when he did, saved him before he became like us, yugyeom. are you telling me you want him to be a third wheel to our little fucked up reality?”

yugyeom’s legs fold on the bed, pulling closer to his body, and his shoulders slouch forward. neither of them want anyone to join their sorry little party, much less someone like jeon jungkook, who has something going for him. he has a future, they both know, or at least, he has the possibly for a future. and a possibility is infinite times better than a definite no.

the sun’s light is slowly fading from the room, getting darker before it’ll disappear altogether in a few moments. it makes kunpimook’s edges look sharper and yugyeom blend into some indescribable shape on the bed. it doesn’t help the mood, and how could it, the sun doesn’t know what’s happening. it has no idea that the two best friends fight about this almost every day, and on the rare days they don’t, they find something else to pick apart until they hate each other.

and it’s not healthy what they’re doing. this dependency they have on each other. they rip into each other constantly, not even subtle about it any more. kunpimook tells yugyeom about how he can’t cook worth shit, how he just shouldn’t clean in the first place if he can’t do a good job, how he’s too serious and can’t take a joke properly, how it’s a good thing he never got taken into a dancing career because he _sucks hard_.

but yugyeom’s right there, using his height to sneer down at his best friend and tell him that he wastes his money on shit that he doesn’t need, that looks stupid, that he would have been better off without it. he’s constantly swearing out the flat kunpimook has despite the fact it’s the only place that he sleeps in, it’s the only place that keeps a roof over his head, how kunpimook’s dream job must be the prostitution he’s being forced to do for some kind of income because he’s so obviously fucking _made for it_.

“hoseok-hyung does him good. just let him have—”

“he’s infatuated with him, bambam!” yugyeom spits, and he’s looking at his best friend like he’s grown a third head. “he’s fifteen, for fucksake, and he’s infatuated with someone a decade older than him!”

the smoke travels from the end of kunpimook’s cigarette when it’s held inches away from his mouth, and mysteriously disappears when the thai man sucks in a breath before it’s suddenly spilling its way out of his lungs. “you gonna tell me you never got infatuated with someone older than you? what do you call jaebum, then, huh?”

“he’s talked to me about all these— he fantasises about a _relationship_ ,” he stresses as much as he can. because obviously something isn’t coming across, something isn’t clicking in kunpimook’s brain. “you’re telling me that you think hoseok-hyung is doing him well when the kid’s fucking daydreaming about him and wishing to sit on _his fucking dick_!”

yugyeom stares him down, watches the smoke crawl and curl around kunpimook’s presence. and he knows, somewhere, in the back of his mind, that this is what some of kunpimook’s clients think is sexy. he knows, because his best friend’s told him, over ready-made meals and ramyun, that he was paid to smoke while they fucked. and it’s weird and yugyeom really doesn’t get it but he’s not broken. and neither is kunpimook.

“you keep saying you don’t want him to be fucked up like us, but he already is."

kunpimook turns his gaze out of the window. his attention rakes over the building and then focuses on what must be one or two people on the street below because no-one’s dumb enough to walk this late at night down here, without some kind of plan or protection. and even then, it’s hit and miss. it’s touch and go. it’s not _guaranteed_.

smoke clings to his words when he says, “so he’s infatuated, thinks he knows what he wants.” he shrugs, window frame digging into his shoulder and inches away from his temple. “he’s young, he’s fifteen, he’ll grow out of it.”

“and what if he doesn’t, huh?” yugyeom narrows his eyes. “what if he doesn’t, what if — god forbid — he manages to convince hoseok-hyung that this is a _good idea_ and there isn’t anything wrong if _they keep it between them_?”

“then we wouldn’t fucking know about it, would we!” kunpimook snaps. he takes a large lungful of smoke littered with probabilities of hospital gowns, tubes and chemo. “if you’re so obsessed with the goddamn kid, why don’t you fuck him yourself then!”

when they get into a fight, it’s never graceful. they’re not in a movie, or a book, they’re not part of a fantasy. so there’s no sudden drowning out of voices as a song comes over, bittersweet and angry, when the camera pans out and just shows their actions not their words until suddenly the sky or the city or another character becomes the new focus. no. this is their life, and their life is shit, so nothing goes to plan. and when yugyeom tries to clamber off the bed, his foot gets stuck in covers and causes him to smack his knee on the bedframe and his elbow on the floor.

“I don’t want to fuck the kid,” he sneers when he’s standing, yanking at his shirt and tugging his zip-up jacket closer to his body. “I don’t want to fuck anyone, or had you forgotten that?”

“you seem perfectly happy with my cock in your goddamn mouth.”

yugyeom snatches the cigarette out of his hand and chucks it out of the window in his own, immature show of defiance. kunpimook’s got a million more, it doesn’t really matter. “don’t you fucking start with that, bhuwakul.”

“oh,” the thai man says, voice low and dangerous, almost calm. “we’re doing last names, are we, kim? is this how you want the night to fucking go.”

it’s a split second decision but next thing he knows, the window frame is digging between kunpimook’s shoulders and his head has snapped to the side, jaw gently working with his skin tingling, warning him of a forming bruise, and he’s in the room that they’ve designated as his, an old rucksack with small holes littered everywhere on his bed and half-stuffed through with his things.

“the fuck do you think you’re doing?” kunpimook yells, marching from his room, down the hall and standing in the doorway, hands pressing into the wood. “the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going to see jaebum-hyung,” yugyeom announces, and he’s so proud because his voice only shakes a little. “I’m going where I know I’m fucking appreciated.”

“oh, you do that. you do that, and then come crawling back in a week because you don’t fucking know how to live life without me.”

kunpimook’s eyes are ice when yugyeom looks up at him, and even though he’s still challenging him, telling him to go, his stance in the doorway hasn’t shifted, his aura of _you’re not going anywhere_ hasn’t disappeared. and honestly, it’s a testament to how well they know each other, how well they know they _need_ each other, that neither of them point out how _dumb_ they are.

“I’m going to jaebum-hyung’s and I’m not coming back,” yugyeom lies. he shoves whatever he can get his hands on in the rucksack, not really thinking, probably will realise only when he’s there that half of what he has is underwear. “enjoy hanging out with a kid and a peadophile.”

kunpimook scoffs. “you’re so fucking childish. jaebum-hyung sounded drunk on the phone. how do you know he even wants you?”

the rucksack is heavy on his back and poking him in weird places but he doesn’t think about it. he just shoulders his way out of the flat with words stabbing his back and his own arsenal littering his home and his best friend. and if he pulls his hood up on the train and hides his face behind his hand because he’s crying even though he knows it’s all going to be okay in the end, nobody needs to know.


End file.
